What gives an Internet meme its life? What makes a particular observation about the language we see in our world significant? Where does citizen sociolinguistic wonderment come from?
A few days ago, my friend shared with me some humorous videos by her favorite American Peruvian YouTuber. Before starting the first one, she offered a disclaimer – it’s all in Spanish, and there aren’t any English subtitles. I didn’t mind, of course, and with our combined communicative repertoires – her Peruvian Spanish, my everyday exposure to Spanish as a Californian and four years of high school French – I was able to understand and enjoy the contents of the video. As it usually goes when you put two graduate students with similar intellectual interests in the same room, however, watching the videos eventually led us to a deep discussion on language ownership (Who owns a language? Can an individual or community truly own a language?), and at one point, I ended up blurting out “Words are meaningless without meaning!”
(Bear with me on that remark for a moment.)
Language, because of and in addition to all of its definitions ever expressed into existence, is experiential. The words that we employ in our daily lives are always referents of something, and they are always situational (as Goffman emphasized) – unique to the physical and social circumstances in which they’re used. Words change and gain new associations each time they arise in social interaction. How we understand words comes from the experiences we have had with them, and from these experiences, personal meaning to various degrees is derived.
In moments of wonderment, defined as “a blend of admiration and awe…regarding ways of speaking”, we’re instantly reminded (usually subconsciously) of the most meaningful connections we have with the language. So for this post, I’d like to briefly share examples of wonderment in my own life and the stories behind them that gave them particular meaning.
A few days ago, my friend shared with me some humorous videos by her favorite American Peruvian YouTuber. Before starting the first one, she offered a disclaimer – it’s all in Spanish, and there aren’t any English subtitles. I didn’t mind, of course, and with our combined communicative repertoires – her Peruvian Spanish, my everyday exposure to Spanish as a Californian and four years of high school French – I was able to understand and enjoy the contents of the video. As it usually goes when you put two graduate students with similar intellectual interests in the same room, however, watching the videos eventually led us to a deep discussion on language ownership (Who owns a language? Can an individual or community truly own a language?), and at one point, I ended up blurting out “Words are meaningless without meaning!”
(Bear with me on that remark for a moment.)
Language, because of and in addition to all of its definitions ever expressed into existence, is experiential. The words that we employ in our daily lives are always referents of something, and they are always situational (as Goffman emphasized) – unique to the physical and social circumstances in which they’re used. Words change and gain new associations each time they arise in social interaction. How we understand words comes from the experiences we have had with them, and from these experiences, personal meaning to various degrees is derived.
- In the organized mess that clutters his office, I interview a local professor of Spanish at a local state university about his profession for a high school project. We were connected because my mother and his wife were coworkers. Near the end of the interview, he takes me over to the world map on his wall and tells me the story of cha and how it traveled from China to Portugal hundreds of years ago. Up to this point in my life, I had thought of languages as strictly bound to the people who spoke them. I realized then that languages were shared. This was the moment I decided that I wanted to study linguistics in college.
- Perhaps you’ve heard the claim, or even agree, that Californians love to talk about California. There’s an immense sense of pride in being from California. In this scenario, one of my close friends and I have both just moved from California to the East Coast for graduate school. We experience a little culture shock when my friend reports to me a conversation she had with a New Yorker about street names. You’re right! I confirm over text message. Where are all the Spanish names?! In Pennsylvania, it seems that many place names are of English, Dutch, or indigenous origin: Walnut Street, Schuylkill River, Passyunk Avenue, Rittenhouse Square. But in California, we were used to a different, and much more diverse, kind of linguistic landscape that was important to us: Anacapa Street, Embarcadero del Norte, Kitayama Drive, Itliong-Vera Cruz Middle School, Grant Avenue (this last one took me a while to recall).
- In another moment of wonderment, one of my favorite Taiwanese rappers, DJ Didilong, releases a new single “蘆樂佛尼亞” (“Lulifornia”; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQoSae_FjZ0), a Mandarin-Taiwanese translinguistic song that juxtaposes life in the outskirts of Taipei and California, evident even in the song title. As I’m sitting at my desk and enjoying the beats, I scroll down to the top comments on YouTube. I find some of the comments both hilarious and fascinating in their language play that I can appreciate as someone who is both Taiwanese and Californian:
(I tried my best to translate these from Mandarin/Taiwanese to English. Bolded parts are from the original text.)
– How is this so dumb but so cool
I live next door in San Chungcisco~
– Reporting in from HsinChuangLorida
2:12 uses Hungchingpao as the background, right? Real insider stuff
– Looks like if you live in LOS BANQIAOLES you’d lose everything - This time, I’m doing this week’s readings in a library on campus. In their introduction, Shifman (2011) describes the Downfall meme. My eyes widen, because I’m immediately transported back ten years to my teacher showing us one of the Downfall derivatives in our AP European History classroom. I quickly take a picture of the reading and upload it onto my Instagram Stories with the caption “s/o to my [high school] apeuro fam [eye emoji]”. Minutes later, my high school classmate replies: “Omfg”. Our conversation continues:
High school classmate: Also there was a Jojo Rabbit trailer that employed it and it was a solid resuscitation of the meme.
Me: omg for real? incredible….i gotta watch it now
HSC: https://twitter.com/jojorabbitmovie/status/1154798536044634113
HSC: The nostalgia was…. heavy.
Me: AMAZING
Me: also lowkey I have to see this movie now
(Note: Watching the trailer via the above Twitter link is highly recommended.)
Thank you Cheryl for sharing your reflections on wonderment! My own love for linguistics was also borne out of a similar encounters and I am always being surprised by how much history is encoded in what could seem like the most insignificant word. This made me think of the names of towns and cities in Florida such as Hypoluxo or Sarasota and how much Spanish and Seminole history is carried in these names, but is seemingly lost in everyday discourse.
ReplyDeleteCheryl, in reading your post and how words are connected to one another reminds of an article I had read about last semester concerning toponyms or place-naming. https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1996-12-08-me-6962-story.html
ReplyDeletePlacenames are tied to how the Western Apache view the past as a metaphorical trail first traveled by their ancestors. This trail can be reconstructed with ‘tracks,’ including place-names. The Western Apache emphasize where past events occurred, rather than when they occurred. History is seen as a story that can be visualized through places. Traditional stories develop moral values, social relationships, and self-awareness. If you lack the awareness, one could run the risk of positioning themselves as an outsider which was unfortunately the case of some of the Apache youth described in the article. Thankfully, work is being done to preserve and promote linguistic wonderment.
Hi Cheryl!
ReplyDeleteThank you for your post! It was very enjoyable to read your insights!
I myself have never been to California, so I had no idea that the street names and school names were rooted in Spanish! I mean, I guess I could have figured as much, but I never thought about it! I am from outside of West Philadelphia, so names like Passyunk, Manayunk, and Schuylkill Expressway are what I grew up with so seem like not even a second thought for me. However, I can see from a different perspective that this would be unusual and or hard to say for someone not from around here. Those words are Native American as are other places in Pennsylvania. There are not only street names, but also names of cities as well. For example, my mom was born in Shickshinny (which means five mountains). It is about three hours north of Philadelphia near Tamaqua and Nescopeck and several other cities named with Native American heritage. There were many Native Americans up in the mountains at one point in history, but unfortunately, with white expansion there are much far less in that area if there are any still. I do appreciate the names though and the history that it leaves us with. The language will “live on” through the names of these places and streets even though the people might not still be there, their words will still have power and presence.